


fairy tales

by peachsneakers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore isn't actually an awful human being, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Harry grows up at Hogwarts, Molly Weasley does, Snape doesn't know how to handle children, The greater good means nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-24 10:31:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18164045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: Sometimes wishes do come true.





	1. Chapter 1

He was a small boy. He knew he was too small for his age, he'd heard Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon and especially Aunt Marge discourse on the topic often enough. He  _swam_ in Dudley's old cast-offs, although even he knew that wasn't entirely on him. Dudley was loads bigger than him, particularly round the middle.

Then again, Dudley had  _parents_ and those parents ensured they fed him. He knew that he didn't deserve that right. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had taken him in out of the goodness of their hearts and he should be grateful for whatever scraps they gave him. He was grateful, truly he was, but sometimes his stomach still complained. He just made sure to drink as much as he could out of one of the taps when that happened. At least Aunt Petunia left him alone to use the loo and if the water ran a touch long when he washed his hands, could she complain  _too_ much about him trying to ensure the cleanliness of his fingers?

So he was a scrawny, under-fed child, but right now, he blessed that fact because it allowed him to crouch longer than someone fatter or taller would have, eyes pressed to the thin crack near the top of the cupboard door. He couldn't see much, but he could see  _enough_.

There was a man there. He had to come to visit after Dudley had gone to bed, and when he should have been asleep, too. He was certainly exhausted enough to be asleep. The long list of chores his aunt had handed him that morning ensured that. His shoulders still ached and he had a slight burn on the side of his hand from cooking dinner that still smarted. He'd known better than to cry out or complain, though. 

Uncle Vernon didn't like the man who'd come to visit. He could hear it in his uncle's blustery tones, the ones he used on people he was uncertain about. Aunt Petunia sounded her normal self, which was to say bitter and full of thin, cold fury. He shuddered to hear it.

The man sounded cool and quiet and like he expected to be obeyed. He didn't want to hear any more excuses. He wanted to see Harry. Harry Potter.

And the little boy crouched in the cupboard shivered all over and let his eyes widen because that was  _his_ name, although it had taken him entering primary school to learn it. Everyone had laughed at him when he didn't know his name and he'd spent a night in the garden shed until he could 'come like even a dog can manage.' His cheeks still flamed, remembering the humiliation that had tightened his throat.

"Take him then," he heard Aunt Petunia spit out, and Harry scrambled back, falling onto the thin and worn mattress that was one of the few things he could claim as his own.

He heard footsteps, slow and steady, make their ponderous way toward the cupboard and when the door was unlatched and swung free, Harry blinked at the sudden onslaught of light, trying to see the man who had requested him, who was going to take him away like so much rubbish.

He was not a nice-looking man, Harry decided, squinting at him. He had a very prominent nose and eyes that sparked with black fire. His hair was long and greasy-looking, hanging in a ragged curtain around a sallow, pinched face. He wore very old-fashioned-looking clothing, like he had stepped free from one of the old books Harry had liked to look at wistfully in the library, before Dudley tore that small pleasure away by stomping on a library book and blaming Harry.

"Harry Potter?" The man asked, pronouncing his name with a heavy sneer. Harry nodded. It was but a tiny bobble of his head, but the man accepted it, anyway. "Get up. You're coming with me. Pack any belongings you wish to bring with you." He thrust a bag at Harry, who took it with numb, disbelieving fingers.

He had, of course, dreamed of rescue. His parents, not really dead, perhaps. A far-flung relative from a fanciful tropical island, breezing in with flowers in their hair and a warm smile. Not this severe-looking man who kept eyeing his aunt and uncle like he really wanted to pin them to the wall.

He should have known, Harry thought, as he filled the bag with his meagre possessions. Some of the best of Dudley's cast-offs, his school books that his cousin hadn't managed to ruin, a broken toy soldier, a handful of marbles, and half a pack of mostly broken crayons. Perhaps he would be allowed to draw, wherever he was going.

"That's it?" The man sneered as he took the duffle. Harry flushed, staring at his bare feet. The man seemed to notice because he barked for Harry to put on his shoes, and sneered more when he saw the battered state of Harry's trainers.

"Sir?" Harry asked timidly. "What- what's your name?"

"Severus Snape," the man said harshly. "I was- I knew your mother." Harry's eyes widened eagerly, but it didn't matter, for in the next moment, Snape had grabbed his hand and strode toward the door, nearly dragging Harry behind him.

"Say goodbye," Snape said over his shoulder. "You won't be seeing them again."

"Erm, bye then," Harry said hesitantly. Uncle Vernon didn't say anything, but Aunt Petunia gave him a very stiff nod.

"Where are we going, sir?" Harry asked, as Snape towed him down the sidewalk.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Snape said, his tone short. Harry's mouth gaped as he struggled to keep up with Snape's long strides. Had he just said... But he  _couldn't_ , that was forbidden, and an adult wouldn't talk about forbidden things, would he?

"Er-" He started, but the  _look_ Snape gave him stopped him cold. Perhaps he didn't want to inquire further, after all.

"Listen to me, Potter," Snape said, stopping in a side alley. It was bitterly cold. " _Do not let go._ " His fingers bit into Harry's arm.

The world rearranged itself in the next breath.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Kindness was not a trait that Severus Snape particularly possessed.

Nor was the ability to make nice with small children, like the one Albus had sent him to collect. Not just  _any_ child, mind you, though the thought of a miniature version of any of his first year crop was enough to make him cringe. No, the  _Potter_ brat was who Albus desired, and what Albus wanted, he usually obtained.

"Surely you would be the better candidate," he tried to wheedle, but Albus pled off with weak protestations about a meeting with the Minister he simply couldn't cancel. As if the weak-minded, simpering fool wouldn't be easily put off by a two-minute Floo call and a pat on the head. No, for some reason, Albus wanted  _him_ in particular to do it.

"The instruments I have tuned to the boy's well-being and the letters I have received from Arabella paint a troubling picture," Albus said. "I had hoped that Petunia would put her prejudice aside for the sake of her sister's child, but-"

"Well, that's a task well beyond the  _Tuney_ I knew," Severus sneered. "Wretched, bitter girl and so jealous of Lily's magical prowess, she could pop at the seams. Did you truly have  _doubt_ on that note, Albus? Could the boy not have gone anywhere else?"

"At the time, I thought not," Albus admitted, looking discomfited. He popped a lemon drop in his mouth and sucked slowly. "I didn't want him to grow up in the wizarding world, spoilt and hailed as a saviour before he could properly toddle. The end of the war was a mess and I didn't believe I could take the boy myself and give him the attention and care he deserves."

"You don't think I'm capable, do you?" Severus asked, his voice thick with his skepticism. "Because I  _will_ put my foot down, Albus. I haven't fathered a child and I don't intend to start now."

"Don't worry on that score, Severus," Albus assured him. "I simply require your assistance to bring the boy to Hogwarts."

Despite skimming through the rambling letters Arabella Figg had written Albus over the course of several years and Severus's insistence that he see the instruments Albus had spoken of for himself, he still had doubts that Harry Potter was  _truly_ in such dire straits as Albus believed. Perhaps Petunia  _had_ matured. It had been quite some time since he'd seen her last, after all.

Then he was  _there_ and surface Legilimency informed him that the boy's bedroom was a  _cupboard_. 

The cupboard beneath the stairs, as if the boy was just another cleaning supply neatly tucked away. For all intents and purposes, he might as well be, for both Petunia and the red-faced buffoon she'd married worked the boy like a house elf. It was disgraceful and it started a hot coal of rage, smouldering low in his stomach. It took surprisingly little to convince Tuney that they would all be better off if she stood aside and let him be on his way with Potter in tow.

Severus's first glimpse of Harry Potter shocked him.

The boy was tiny. It didn't help that his clothes were much too big for him. Huge, slightly unfocused green eyes stared up at him and Severus felt like he'd been punched in the gut because he had his mother's eyes.

If he was rough, instructing Potter to gather his things, he assured himself it was purely a show, put on for the Muggles, who stared at him with wide, fearful eyes and pinched mouths. Tuney in particular gave him a gimlet stare, almost as if she dared him to do better. He had no idea what kind of influence Albus expected him to exert over the boy, if any, but he swore to himself that if nothing else, he could certainly manage better than Petunia bloody Evans.

In no time at all, he had the boy well in hand and marched down the street, unwilling to listen to inane chatter or senseless questions. He disliked standing in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood with a young child and he wanted to return the boy to Hogwarts as soon as possible. Hogwarts, Albus, and almost certainly the Hospital Wing, given the thinness of the child.

"Listen to me, Potter," Severus said. Green eyes looked at him, watering with nervousness. " _Do not let go._ " He gripped the boy's arm as tightly as he dared. Side-along Apparition was tricky at the best of times, but doing so with children was even worse. Children tended to fidget and whine and throw up. He hoped that he still had a stomach soothing potion somewhere in his robes. He had a feeling it would likely come in handy in a few minutes.

Picturing the ornate Hogwarts gates, Severus spun on his heel, Apparating with a loud crack. He landed on his feet, keeping Potter up by sheer virtue of his strength. The boy had gone pale as parchment, his eyes glassy, but he hiccoughed, drawing in several deep, half-sobbing breaths.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Severus said quietly.

"It's a  _castle_ ," Potter breathed. Severus opened his mouth to sneer something cutting, then remembered his own awe when it had come into view his first year.

"So it is," he said instead. "Now come. The Headmaster would like to speak with you."


	3. Chapter 3

Harry trotted along at Snape's side, staring around himself in wonder. He'd never seen a real, live  _castle_ before, not in real life. The castle that sprawled across the dark grounds before him was  _huge_ and everything he could have ever dreamed of, with stalwart ramparts and towers and flags flying from the very tops of them, though he couldn't make them out very well. He didn't think the lateness of the hour had anything to do with that, either. His primary school teacher had noticed his flagging vision and quietly moved him to the front of the room, but she hadn't been able to force Aunt Petunia into taking him to get eyeglasses.

Not that Harry particularly  _wanted_ eyeglasses, Dudley and his gang were always even crueler to the boys in class who had them, and considering the practice of Harry Hunting, he had no desire to make his cousin's attentions even  _worse_.

"Do not attempt to run off when we enter the school, Potter," Snape told him in a low, harsh voice. "You will be respectful to the Headmaster. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said. He understood respect very well, after his time with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. He never knew what would set off his uncle, but he didn't want to find out. He always did.

Snape led him through the massive doors into a broad entrance hall. Harry stared in awe at the polished floor and the suits of armour standing at attention, but Snape was already moving, aiming for a wide staircase.

"Be careful, Potter," Snape said. "The sixth stair is a trick one." Harry looked at the steps in astonishment. How could one be a trick stair? But he avoided it as directed, anyway, doing his best to keep up with the professor, who had a very long stride. He was starting to tire out, the exhaustion from a full day of work crashing down on his malnourished shoulders.

He kept on anyway, and soon they stood in front of a large, squatting stone gargoyle. It was one of the fiercest things Harry had ever seen and he couldn't help but feel a tinge of relief that the thing hadn't leaped from its pedestal and attacked him.

"Blood Pops," Snape told the air, rather sourly, and the gargoyle jumped aside, revealing a circular staircase. Harry gaped at it.

"Well, come on then," Snape told him, prodding his shoulder. "This way to the Headmaster's office."

Harry expected to climb the stairs, but with an abortive squeak, he discovered instead that the staircase rose smoothly in the air, rather like some sort of lift. He felt a bit queasy when it stopped at another wooden door and Snape rapped on it hard with his knuckles.

"Come in," came a slightly creaky voice. Snape opened the door, the hinges rasping, and ushered Harry inside.

Harry's eyes went very wide when he took in the office of the mysterious Headmaster Snape had brought him to. It was full of interesting gold and silver things that twinkled and whirled and made tiny chirruping sounds in the air. There were portraits on the wall and the people in them were  _moving_ , like somehow a video had been implanted into a picture frame.

And then the  _bird_... Harry's fingers itched to pet the red and gold feathers of the magnificent, enormous bird slumbering on a sturdy perch. He'd never seen anything so magical in his life and he desperately hoped that it wasn't just a dream. If he heard the thump of Dudley's footsteps down the stairs or the stern voice of his Aunt Petunia telling him to get up in the next moment...

But it didn't happen and Snape settled him in the most comfortable chair Harry had ever sat in before taking his own. Across a broad wooden desk littered with papers and other interesting things that Harry wished he could pay more attention to was an extremely old man. He had half-moon spectacles perched on a rather long nose, a lot of long white hair with a matching beard, and he wore the strangest clothes. It looked like a funny, dark blue dress with loads of spangles and gold stars.

"Hello, Harry," this man said in a warm, friendly voice. He smiled at Harry and Harry smiled tentatively back. "I am Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Hello, sir," Harry managed to say, Snape's words ringing in his mind.

"I am sorry that I did not retrieve you from your relatives sooner, Harry," Dumbledore told him gently. "I had not realised-" His face grew worn then, worn and desperately sad.

"Get on with it, Albus," Snape said impatiently.

"Some things can not be rushed, Severus," Dumbledore said, placid. "Has your aunt told you anything about your parents, Harry? About what you are?"

"Er-" Harry's face warmed. Would he be tossed back out when they heard about his disgraceful parentage? Most people looked at him with a mix of anger and pity when they heard the story. "Aunt Petunia said they were worthless drunks who got themselves killed in a car crash." He moved aside his sweaty fringe, revealing the still-livid lightning bolt scar. "That's how I got this."

From the corner of his eye, Harry could see that Snape's face had gone stark white in fury and he cringed in his chair, waiting for the next blow to fall.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Dumbledore said. He was trying to be kind, but Harry could see the anger flickering in those bright blue eyes and it made him want to sick up. "But that isn't the truth."

"But Aunt Petunia-" Harry started to say before Snape interrupted him.

"Petunia is a lying, evil bi-"

"Severus!" Dumbledore said, and Snape quieted mid-word, though his sneer remained pronounced as ever. After a moment, Dumbledore relaxed and turned back to Harry.

"Your parents didn't die in a car crash, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. "They were murdered."

"Murdered?" Harry whispered, eyes round. "By- by who, sir?"

"His name was Voldemort," Dumbledore said gravely. Snape flinched and Harry wondered why. "You must understand something first, Harry. You are a wizard."

"I'm a what?" Harry said dumbly.

"A wizard," Dumbledore repeated. "You are capable of doing magic. Haven't you ever done anything you couldn't explain? Something a little strange?"

Harry thought back, remembering the time he'd ended up on the school roof when Dudley and his gang had chased him and the times that the cupboard had somehow unlatched itself in the middle of the night, letting him tiptoe into the kitchen and steal scraps of food. If he was very careful, no one ever noticed.

"Yes, sir," Harry admitted.

"Your parents were magical, too," Dumbledore resumed the tale. "They fought against an evil wizard. Voldemort." Snape flinched again. "He killed them, I'm sorry to say. But he didn't kill you. His curse rebounded and banished him."

"Is he dead?" Harry asked tentatively. 

"The world believes so," Dumbledore said. "But I- no, I do not believe he is, not truly. Great evil has a way of lingering, Harry."

"Oh," Harry said. He looked down at the shining surface of the desk because it was too hard to look in Dumbledore's face anymore.

"I left you with your relatives because I believed it would be the safest place for you," Dumbledore said quietly. "We had not rounded up all of Voldemort's followers and you were vulnerable. I am so sorry, Harry." Harry looked up and saw that the Headmaster's eyes were wet. It made him feel uncomfortable. "I wish that I could have acted sooner."

"What- what happens to me now, sir?" Harry asked, his throat gone dry and tight.

"You will stay here in Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. "And we will figure out a better place for you."

Harry's smile was blinding.


	4. Chapter 4

_Do not stick me with the boy, do not stick me with the boy,_ Severus mentally chanted. Potter was grinning at the Headmaster so hard it looked like it hurt. After what Severus had seen of his former residence, he couldn't blame the boy. He only wished that he'd been able to do more than curse both Petunia and her red-faced husband with nightmares. A small measure of justice, but perhaps they would grow to feel the seeds of regret for how they'd treated a child in their care.

"It is late," Albus mused. "Severus, if you could-" Severus opened his mouth to refute the request when Potter looked up at him. His eyes were slightly watery and full of such shining  _hope_ , Severus's throat tightened.

"Tonight," Severus acquiesced. "I expect you to find better quarters for him in the morning. Mine are unsuitable for children."

"Thank you, Severus," Albus said.

And then they were on another walk through the castle, down into the dungeons where Severus's private rooms remained. He'd always felt more at home in the dungeons, especially after spending seven years in them through school. The lack of sunshine did not bother him. After all, some potions required the dark. (And those that required light could always be managed in his tiny ground floor potions lab, given expressly for that purpose.)

Potter kept slowing down, craning his head to look at this and that. Severus itched to scold him for it, but what small child wouldn't be fascinated by the interior of a magical castle?

"Here we are," Severus said, pausing in front of a painting of water lilies. He wondered if anyone but Albus appreciated the gesture. "The password is  _calla_. Please repeat it after me."

"Calla," Potter obediently echoed. A door sprouted from the smooth stone wall, surprising a cry of delight from the boy's mouth. Severus smoothly ushered him inside, flicking his wand to light the sconces and re-lift his wards.

"You will be staying with me tonight," Severus said. "Are you hungry?"

Potter looked down at the floor, his shoulders hunching. He twisted the hem of the appalling rags he wore, not daring to look back up. Severus took that as a resounding  _yes_.

"Come here," Severus said, guiding the child into the kitchen and pulling out a chair for him. Severus tapped his wand twice against the table and a plate heaped with dinner's leftovers appeared. Potter stared at it with huge eyes, a gurgle of astonishment coming to Severus's ears.

"It is for you," he told the boy.

"All- all of it, sir?" Potter asked tentatively. "But have you-"

"I ate at the appropriate hour," Severus told him. "Do not concern yourself with my eating habits. And yes, all of it is for you."

Potter's table manners were atrocious, Severus noted as the boy set himself to eating. His grasp of a fork was clumsy and he didn't seem to know what to do with his knife. He didn't speak with his mouth full, but he hoarded each bite to himself like he expected Severus to snatch it away at any moment. From what he'd seen flicking through Petunia's mind, that wasn't far from previous truths. For all his faults, he had no desire to steal food away from a half-starved child, however, so he merely sank into his own chair and sipped a cup of tea, for lack of anything better to do. It wasn't like he could leave Potter  _alone_ , after all.

"Thank you, sir," Potter said when he'd finished just over a third of the plate. Severus's eyes narrowed. That wasn't nearly enough for a child. The eleven-year-olds would have devoured that plate. Of course, Potter was quite a ways from being able to attend Hogwarts as a student.

He mentally added nutrient potions to what the boy would need just as a slight gasp of pain had him whirling to stare at the boy, who had knocked his hand against his cup.

"S-sorry, sir," Potter stammered, cradling the injured hand close to his chest. With a pang, Severus realised as he stared into the boy's green eyes that Potter was terrified.

"You are not in trouble," he stated, keeping his voice as calm as he could. "What is the matter with your hand?" Reluctantly, Potter held it out to him and Severus was shocked to discover what looked like a recent and painful burn on the side.

"You didn't get that here," Severus said, looking around his kitchen. Surely not. There was nothing he could have burnt himself  _on_. Potter was looking down into his lap, nervously wringing his hem again.

"At my aunt and uncle's, sir," he mumbled.

"Of course Petunia would not treat it," Severus sneered. He lifted his wand and summoned a tin of burn salve. "This will treat it, if you let me put it on your burn. Is that acceptable, Potter?"

Potter nodded and Severus smeared the salve across the burn, feeling it take away the heat as it went. Potter stared in fascination.

"I'll take you to the Hospital Wing tomorrow," Severus decided, ignoring the flicker of fear that shadowed Potter's eyes. If it wasn't for the time, Albus would have insisted the child go tonight. A detailed health record was important.

"Okay, sir," Potter said, subdued.

"You will sleep in my guest room," Severus said. "Don't wander. You're allowed in the bathroom, of course, and if you need anything during the night, you may wake me." The words were gentler than his normal irritation, but he didn't want to frighten the boy into running off, did he? Even if he did look damnably like his father.

"Thank you, sir," Potter said. Severus showed him the guest room, telling him to brush his teeth. He seemed enamoured with the bed. With a wince, Severus remembered the thin, squashed mattress he'd seen crammed into the cupboard where he had found the boy. A proper bed would be a treat then.

"Good night," Severus told him, then disappeared into his room.

He lay awake for a long time, pondering what exactly it meant for Harry Potter to come to Hogwarts.


End file.
